Chapter 8
885 Words
Olivia arrived late because her car broke down in the middle of the road. It took the auto repair shop personnel thirty minutes to arrive and tow her vehicle.
She took a cab to the Bradford Estate.
The party was in full swing when she entered. The music was loud enough to break her eardrums, and the scent of alcohol and smoke wafted through the air.
She had attended various parties before, but this one was different. People were everywhere, shouting and laughing. A woman in jeans stood on a table, finishing a beer mug. Two bare-chested guys were doing a sexy dance while the surrounding group cheered.
For the first time in Olivia's life, she didn't mind the noise. The sound was a lullaby that soothed her soul, making her forget that her life was a mess. Here, she could be herself, drink to her heart's desire—although she hadn’t done that before. She could even dance if she wanted to.
She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the hellos and waves from strangers.
Clayton was easy to spot; the crown of his head was visible in the sea of bodies. He was standing in a corner, surrounded by girls—no, women—with big boobs, shapely butts, and long legs.
Olivia wasn't surprised. Like bees to honey, he always had a magnetic charm that drew women in. But noticeably, he didn't let any of them touch him. Olivia envied his faithfulness to a woman who had long since been gone.
Shaking her head, she made her way to the side bar, where a bartender served drinks. "Choose your poison," he said with a wink.
Olivia hadn’t drunk before, having just turned eighteen. Selecting a drink was a dilemma, but she didn’t have to choose because a man behind her spoke up, "Give the lovely lady a Margarita."
The man gave her a smile and gestured to the empty stool beside her. "Can I?"
She wanted to drink alone but thought it wouldn't hurt to have company. Olivia shrugged. "Suit yourself.”
The bartender handed her the drink, and Olivia let the cold liquid slide down her throat. She drank it like juice and instantly broke into a fit of coughs.
The man's thick brows rose in amusement. "First time?"
Still struggling to speak, Olivia nodded.
"I'm Dylan Bradford, Clayton's older brother," he introduced himself, and her eyes instantly lit up. No wonder he looked so much like Clayton.
"You must be Olivia, my younger brother's fiancée," he continued before she could introduce herself.
Olivia took his offered hand. His grip was firm and strong. "Yes, I am," she replied, wondering how he knew. As though reading her thoughts, he told her, "My brother talks about you often."
Olivia coughed. Clayton talking about her? He must have been telling them she was a freak.
She was on her third glass when Dylan shared a story about Clayton. "Back in fourth grade, he wet his pants."
"You're kidding, right?" Olivia laughed. She couldn't imagine Clayton, who was already too tall for his age, pissing his pants even in fourth grade.
"I wish I was!"
"The whole mess happened because our sister found a stray cat and smuggled it into the house. Now, everyone knew Clayton couldn't be within ten feet of a cat without turning into a sneezing, wheezing mess."
"Mom was furious when she found out and sent the cat to live with our cousin. But our sister assumed Clayton snitched on her. At recess, she threw a rubber snake at him, and he pissed his pants in fear.”
Olivia found herself enjoying Dylan's company more than expected. He had a way of putting her at ease. Their sense of humor clicked. At that moment, she wished she had a brother like him.
He told her more stories, and she laughed until her stomach hurt. She was having fun. When he finally excused himself she was disappointed.
“I've got to leave or else someone will punch a hole in my back."
Before she could ask what he meant by that, he was already walking away, disappearing into the crowd like smoke. Olivia blinked, confused.
She turned back to her drink, feeling strangely alone now.
The empty seat beside her didn’t stay vacant for long. A man occupied the stool a short while later and introduced himself, “I'm Chris.” He told her.
Olivia made a mental groan. Not another 'C'—her experiences with men whose names started with that letter had always taken a turn for the worse.
She forced a polite smile and replied, “Olivia.”
He noticed her glass was empty and decided to order drinks for them both. The bartender served the drinks. She took a sip, and when she tasted hers, she nearly spat it out. This was, without a doubt, the worst drink she had ever encountered.
“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, Olivia,” Chris told her with a flirty smile. She had heard those words a thousand times before, and they had lost their magic.
“Thank you.” She shifted her focus to her glass, hoping that would end the conversation, but her silence seemed to encourage him to continue.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
- Writer
